


Can We Fast Forward

by mokuyoubi



Series: Carmen 'Verse [2]
Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-05 00:08:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mokuyoubi/pseuds/mokuyoubi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Very, very porny sequel to Every One of You.  This takes place shortly after Brendon and Spencer get together, and chronicles their sexual exploits for the first couple months of their relationship.  And pretty much nothing else...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can We Fast Forward

Brendon likes to wind his limbs all around Spencer while he sleeps. It’s really nice, and means that Spencer isn’t ever cold, but sometimes it gets awkward in the morning when they’re both hard and their hips are pressed together, and Brendon apparently still has all sorts of Mormon hang-ups that keep that from leading to anything _fun_.

Spencer wakes up to Brendon’s fingers creeping up his ribs under his shirt and Brendon’s mouth open on his throat. He lies still for a moment, seeing where it will go. Brendon traces his tongue over Spencer’s pulse; it feels like he’s spelling out his own name, which is so stupidly Brendon, and makes Spencer’s heart clench. 

His heart rate picks up and Brendon whispers, “Good morning,” against his skin. Spencer bends his neck to catch Brendon’s mouth in a kiss. This is easily one of Spencer’s favourite things ever. He could make out with Brendon for hours—has, before, and has the bite marks on his collar to prove it. 

Brendon’s mouth was _made_ for this. He was a hesitant kisser at first, but now he knows just what he’s doing, just how to nip and lick and suck to make Spencer go hard and desperate in a matter of seconds. 

Brendon’s fingers curl against Spencer’s stomach and Spencer considers pulling back to take their shirts off. He thinks bare chest to bare chest is okay now, but he never knows what’s going to freak Brendon out, and he doesn’t want to push his luck. 

Instead, he sucks kisses along Brendon’s neck and pulls his collar down a little to get to more skin. Brendon hums his approval, tipping his head back against the pillow. Brendon’s neck is pretty sensitive, and Spencer likes to take his time, testing how much pressure and where gets the best reaction. 

His hands press against the small of Brendon’s back, urging him closer and Brendon rocks his hips up, cock rubbing against Spencer’s. Spencer shudders and bites down hard on his clavicle and Brendon groans and does this _thing_ with his hips, moving them in a slow grind, and freezes halfway through. 

“It’s okay,” Spencer soothes. He rubs his thumb along Brendon’s waist and hesitantly moves his own hips up to meet Brendon’s. He’s not trying to push, but he’s starting to worry that things are never going to go any further. 

Brendon whimpers and his body goes limp and pliant in Spencer’s arms. He’s not fighting, but he’s not helping, and that doesn’t do shit for Spencer. 

“It’s okay,” Spencer says again, giving in. He puts his forehead to Brendon’s and scoots his body back so they aren’t pressed so tightly to one another. 

Brendon closes his eyes and lets out a shaky sigh. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

Spencer squeezes his arm and pecks him on the lips. “It’s seriously okay, Brendon,” he says, though he thinks he might be going a little crazy. “I’m gonna go shower.” 

Brendon flushes, because they both know what Spencer’s going to do in the shower, and Spencer’s a little pissed off, because if Brendon would just get with the fucking programme they could be doing it _together_. 

*

They’ve got two weeks left in the studio, and Spencer isn’t sure how they’re supposed to get finished in that time, but he shuts up and does his job. He figures if he can travel through time, anything is possible. 

Brendon and Ryan are fighting over two different takes of _Time to Dance_. They bicker between recordings in the studio and it turns into a cold war by dinner, and Spencer is very careful to keep his mouth shut when they both start giving him plaintive looks. They need to work this out themselves; he can’t play peacemaker. Something about the future he saw tells him that’s important. 

That night, Spencer goes straight to the room he now shares with Brendon, pulls out a drumming magazine, and puts on his headphones so he doesn’t have to hear the fun in the other room. Brendon and Ryan are taking turns blasting their versions of the song on the living room stereo, and for some reason Brent finds it hilarious. 

Brendon comes banging into the room around ten, slamming the door behind himself. Spencer arches a brow, and doesn’t say anything, and waits. It doesn’t take long. Brendon grabs the magazine from his hands and drops it on the floor, then climbs into Spencer’s lap, grabs his chin, and tilts his face up for a kiss. 

“Hey,” Spencer murmurs, between kisses. Brendon doesn’t answer. When Spencer breaks away to speak, Brendon just bends to lay kisses over his chin and over his throat. 

Spencer lets his hands fall lightly on Brendon’s hips and feels the tension there, Brendon’s thighs trembling from holding himself still. He shifts to press his knees tight by Spencer’s hips and rocks down against him. 

They both gasp and Brendon catches Spencer’s mouth in another kiss, hotter and faster, and doesn’t stop rocking, even when Spencer goes hard and starts grinding back. Spencer gets his hands under Brendon’s t-shirt and Brendon raises his arms to help Spencer get it off before tugging on Spencer’s shirt. 

When Brendon leans in for another kiss, he arches his back, rubbing his bare skin to Spencer’s. Spencer is hesitant, worries every movement will be the wrong one. But Brendon sighs against his cheek and says, “Touch me,” and how can Spencer resist that. 

Brendon’s skin is soft and flawless, Spencer wants to spend hours learning every dip and rise, every freckle and childhood scar. He’s so skinny compared to Spencer that Spencer is surprised Brendon hasn’t taken off in disgust by now. 

Spencer can count Brendon’s ribs and the knots on his spine, tripping his fingers down each. Brendon writhes and presses closer. He scrapes his nails over Spencer’s stomach and the touch makes Spencer feel like he’s been lit on fire. 

“Let me,” Spencer breathes, and lays his hand low on Brendon’s stomach, fingers brushing the waist of Brendon’s jeans. Brendon takes in a deep breath and holds it. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t stop Spencer when he pops the button open. 

It seems to take an eternity to unfasten Brendon’s jeans, drawing the zipper down one tooth at a time, and the only sound is Spencer’s heavy breathing—Brendon still hasn’t exhaled, eyes fixed on Spencer’s hand between them. His underwear are white, darker where his cock is leaking, tenting the fabric. Spencer brushes his knuckles down the fine line of hair leading from Brendon’s belly button beneath the elastic of his boxer briefs. 

“Keep going,” Brendon says, when Spencer stops at the fabric. 

“You sure?” Spencer asks, when really he wants to roll Brendon beneath him and do every dirty thing he’s ever read about or seen on the internet. 

There’s a blush over Brendon’s cheeks all the way down his throat, but he nods his head and says, “Yes, keep going.” He ducks, hiding his face with kisses pressed into Spencer’s neck. 

Spencer’s so hard he might spontaneously combust, and touching Brendon simultaneously makes things better and worse. What would be really awesome would be some reciprocal action, but he isn’t going to press his luck. 

It seems odd that a few short weeks ago, Spencer was protesting his heterosexuality and now he’s sliding his hand down the front of Brendon’s underwear, fingers brushing coarse hair. Brendon makes a strange, desperate noise and bucks up. His cock bumps against Spencer’s hand and Spencer fumbles to get his fist around him. 

“Spence,” Brendon breathes and scrapes his teeth over Spencer’s pulse. “Please, please, please.” 

“Yeah,” Spencer answers, doesn’t know what he’s saying yes to. He jerks Brendon off, tight and fast and too dry, but Brendon seems to like it. He’s whining close to Spencer’s ear, but it isn’t annoying, it’s going straight to Spencer’s dick. 

Brendon’s wiggling in Spencer’s lap, and Spencer might just come in his pants, but that’s okay, because he’s touching Brendon. He arches up, pressing against Brendon’s ass and Brendon gets the hint, rocking in time with Spencer’s wrist. 

“I’m—I can’t,” Brendon whispers. He sounds like he’s run a marathon, breath hot and damp by Spencer’s ear. 

“It’s okay,” Spencer manages, “just let go.” His vision is going white around the edges and he’s so fucking close. 

Brendon bites down hard on Spencer’s shoulder, blunt teeth sending a shock down Spencer’s spine. Then Brendon’s coming in Spencer’s hand, filling the room with the scent of sex. He sprawls heavy and limp over Spencer’s lap and Spencer can’t stifle a groan of frustration, still working his hips in search of friction. 

“Sorry,” Brendon murmurs, “sorry,” and reaches between them, fingers tracing the shape of Spencer’s dick through his pyjama pants. He presses down hard, rubbing the heel of his hand against the base of Spencer’s cock and rolling his hand up, squeezing. 

Spencer’s head drop backs, thudding against the headboard and Brendon licks up the line of his throat and nibbles at his ear. That’s all Spencer needs; Brendon’s been learning all of his weak spots. His orgasm sweeps through from fingertips to toes, wracking his body with shudders. Brendon kisses him through it, sloppy, wet kisses that Spencer struggles to keep up with. 

His hand is still curled inside Brendon’s underwear, sticky and drying, and his pants are damp and uncomfortable. But Brendon curls up on top of him, fingers pressing possessively over Spencer’s hipbone, and Spencer doesn’t really feel like moving. He feels heavy and content and stupid in love, so he just trades kisses with Brendon until they both pass out. 

*

It’s like a switch has been flipped, and suddenly Brendon can’t get enough. He wakes Spencer up a few hours after the first time, wiggling out of his pants and then tackling Spencer’s. Skin on skin is so, so much better. Brendon tugs Spencer onto his side and gets a leg between Spencer’s, and lines up their cocks. 

Spencer’s still mostly asleep, but Brendon does most of the work, rolling his hips faster and faster. Spencer just grabs his ass—god, the things he wants to do to that ass—and holds on for the ride. It’s over quickly. They’re going to need to work on that stamina thing, but whatever, they can more than make up with it in quantity. 

In the morning, Brendon wakes Spencer up with his hand around his cock, and after breakfast he follows Spencer into bathroom. Brendon reaches past him to turn on the shower, white noise blocking out the sounds of Ryan and Brent in the kitchen. Then he backs Spencer up against the sink and gets on his knees, and Spencer almost comes at that sight. 

Spencer lays a hand on Brendon’s cheek and Brendon turns his face to press a kiss in Spencer’s palm. He grins, and Spencer traces that wide mouth with his thumb. 

“You’ll have to let me know what feels good,” Brendon says. “I have no idea what I’m doing.” 

“We don’t have to,” Spencer says in an undertone. “You don’t have to, I mean…”

“Yeah, but I want to,” Brendon says, and before Spencer can protest anymore, Brendon grabs his cock and wraps his lips around the head. 

Spencer’s pretty proud that he lasts almost thirty seconds before he pushes at Brendon’s shoulder. Brendon sits back on his heels and jerks Spencer off and Spencer comes all over his face and shoulders. He thinks maybe it’s rude, and Brendon will get pissed off, but he just gives Spencer a dirty smile and drags his finger across his own cheek, sucking it into his mouth. 

“What are you—” Spencer pants, as his cock tries to stir again already, watching him. 

Brendon’s smile turns devious and he gets to his feet, pressing kisses over Spencer’s hip, his stomach, his chest, as he stands. “Gotta know what it tastes like,” he says, “so maybe next time you don’t have to push me away.” 

“Fuck, Brendon,” Spencer hisses, and pulls him into a kiss with a hand at the base of his skull. He wants to go down on his knees and return the favour, but he’s still slightly freaked—about the taste, or about choking and throwing up and being so traumatised that he never wants to have sex with Brendon again (or vice-versa), which would be a fucking shame. So instead he jerks Brendon off, and Brendon doesn’t seem to mind. 

*

For the past couple weeks, they’ve been taking advantage of every break to find someplace quiet to make out. It means they already know where all the dark, private corners are to hide. They’ve gotten good at being quick and quiet, though Brendon still makes these breathy little moans that drive Spencer crazy. 

They’re also getting better at keeping clean and leaving no visible evidence. Brendon loves giving blowjobs and Spencer loves getting them, which helps a lot. Spencer’s started carrying Kleenex in his pocket, but secretly he knows he’s being selfish and unfair and needs to give a little of what he’s getting. 

Of course they’re not fooling anyone. Brent doesn’t care, though he’s been very vocal about his confusion that it’s Spencer sleeping with Brendon, and not Ryan. Ryan gives Spencer hell about it when they’re alone, teasing mercilessly, but Spencer knows Ryan is happy for them. For more than one reason. 

Brendon’s suddenly a lot less stressed about things, easily and happily giving in to what Ryan wants, and, in turn the whole process has become easier. Spencer thinks it’s sort of a shame that he’s waited until the last two weeks to give Brendon regular orgasms, but maybe it’ll make the next record a lot pleasanter experience. 

*

They finish the record and Pete calls to congratulate them and promise to get together to celebrate with them soon. In the meantime, though, he sends them a limo and a credit card and tells them to go out, on him. 

Most people would probably think their idea of a party is pretty lame—there’s no alcohol, no drugs, no hot chicks. First Ryan drags them all to the mall to get what he calls “real clothes.” Spencer and Brendon indulge him, letting him dress them in new jeans and fancy shirts and jackets. Brent staunchly refuses to let Ryan anywhere near his wardrobe, but he does buy a new hat. 

All dressed up, they go out to dinner at a pretty nice seafood place at the harbour and order appetisers and entrées and every dessert on the menu to share. They make their toasts with milkshakes rather than champagne, but Spencer is totally okay with that. The longer he keeps Ryan away from alcohol, the better. 

Spencer and Brendon crowd together on one side of the booth and spend more time making out than eating, while Brent and Ryan valiantly try to ignore them, or, alternately, make gagging noises, and coming up with ever more ridiculous toasts. 

“To us,” Spencer interrupts them, and Brendon beams at him and nuzzles along Spencer’s jaw. He whispers, only for Spencer to hear, “To Carmen,” and Spencer sees their whole future laid out ahead of them. 

He isn’t sure how he makes it through the movie that follows, or the ride home, keeping his hands mostly to himself. He can just imagine making the headlines before they’re even famous, getting caught having sex in a theatre or some shit, so he just squeezes Brendon’s hand tight and the moment they’re home, drags him down the hall to their room and slams the door shut behind them. Who cares if Ryan gives him shit about it later? 

Brendon giggles into Spencer’s mouth, happy and breathless, helping Spencer out of his jacket and twisting around to get out of his own. They undress in the dark, Spencer almost tripping over himself when his jeans get caught around his ankles. Brendon laughs, but it doesn’t sound mocking, and Spencer doesn’t mind. He likes it that Brendon can laugh during sex. 

Spencer pushes Brendon down on the bed and climbs over him, settling between his thighs. They’ve left the lamps off, and Brendon is illuminated only by the blue light streaming through the window shade, casting dark stripes over his skin. Spencer frames Brendon’s hips in his hands and sinks down onto his elbows and Brendon’s breath catches. 

“Spence,” Brendon says, threading his fingers through Spencer’s hair. “I don’t care. You know I don’t care. You make me feel so good…”

“Yeah, but I bet I can make it feel even better,” Spencer says, with bravado he doesn’t really feel. Still, he _wants_ to do this. 

Brendon’s hips buck when Spencer goes down on him, but catches himself before Spencer chokes. “S—sorry,” Brendon stutters, and Spencer pets his thigh and goes down further, taking as much as he can. It isn’t hard to fight his gag reflex, especially not when Brendon starts whimpering and babbling, seriously dirty shit mixed with sweet nothings. 

“Spence,” Brendon pants. He tugs on Spencer’s hair. “Spence, Spencer, stop.” 

Spencer pulls back, letting his bottom lip drag across the head of Brendon’s cock. He actually doesn’t _want_ to stop. The taste is a little strong, but he _likes_ this. He likes the texture of Brendon against his tongue, the heaviness of him, the ache building up in his jaw. “You let me come in your mouth. I can swallow, too.” 

Brendon makes a face at him, like he doubts Spencer knows what he’s talking about. “Whatever,” Brendon says, in a fondly exasperated way. “I wasn’t saying you couldn’t. Just…I wanna…”

Spencer looks at him expectantly and swirls his tongue over Brendon’s cock. “Fuck,” Brendon hisses, and tugs on Spencer’s hair again. “You’re such a dick.” 

“No,” Spencer says slowly, “but I could be sucking yours.” 

“And I could be sucking yours, too,” Brendon says pointedly, pushing Spencer back to the mattress. Spencer gets the hint, letting Brendon manoeuvre him where he wants him. 

It is really, really hard to focus on giving head with Brendon sucking his cock, but Brendon still comes first, so that’s something. He hums around Spencer’s cock and pushes at his head in warning and Spencer pulls back a little, but still lets Brendon come in his mouth. 

The taste is sort of hideous, but he’s best friends with Ryan, who loves experimental cuisine, and he’s had a lot worse tastes in his mouth, so he makes himself swallow. Besides, he’s sort of distracted when Brendon starts massaging his balls and deep throats him at the same time, and then he’s coming harder than he ever has in his life, and the taste is the last thing on his mind. 

“Holy fuck,” Spencer manages, when he can speak again. 

Brendon chuckles hoarsely and kisses Spencer’s thigh. “So, that’s a good thing?” Brendon teases. 

“Holy fuck,” Spencer says again. He rubs a hand up Brendon’s calf, around the back of his knee. Brendon’s muscles quiver and he presses his fingers hard against Spencer’s hipbone, against an old bite that’s turning a dull purple with age. Spencer likes having Brendon’s marks on him, likes touching them and feeling tender, and seeing his own marks on Brendon’s body. 

“So I should do that more?” Brendon asks, and he sounds like he’s got strep throat. 

“It fucked up your voice,” Spencer protests, but it’s a weak protest, because _holy fuck_. 

Brendon shrugs. “Yeah? And recording’s over and we don’t go on tour for ages.” 

“I’m kind of in love with you,” Spencer says, suddenly serious. 

He worries about his timing for a minute, thinking Brendon might misinterpret it, but Brendon sits up and leans over him. His face is serious, too, and his smile is soft in the moonlight. “I’m kind of in love with you, too,” he whispers. “And by kind of, I mean I’ve been in love with you forever.” 

Spencer laces his fingers in Brendon’s hair and pulls him down for a kiss. Brendon fits just right against him, moulding to Spencer’s curve, and wraps his arms around Spencer’s waist, holding tight. Spencer kisses like he’s saying _I love you_ , and he didn’t know you could kiss like that, but Brendon understands, and kisses back. 

*

Being back in Vegas is sort of surreal, but luckily Spencer’s parents have never been the sort to set down a bunch of rules and curfews. As long as he shows up for family movie night and game night, and helps out on Sunday afternoon with chores, his parents are pretty cool about letting him do whatever. 

His mom makes dinner for the whole band when they get back, and he stays the night there, which is weird, being the first night he hasn’t slept with Brendon twined around him in almost two months. 

The next day, when Brendon shows up for game night, his parents know exactly what’s going on. Spencer says he’s spending the night with Brendon and he’ll be back in a day or two, and his mother drags him aside to remind him if he’s old enough to have sex, he’s old enough to be responsible about it. Then she tells him and Brendon had better be back for family dinner night. Spencer blushes and hurries away, but he’s privately happy that his mom is okay with Brendon. 

They spend the next two days not leaving Brendon’s apartment, and barely leaving the bed. Spencer’s getting pretty good at the whole blowjob thing, if Brendon’s reaction is anything to go by. It’s all really fucking awesome, everything they try, even if sometimes it starts out awkward and takes a little practice. Brendon never gets upset when Spencer does the wrong thing, just laughs and helps him figure it out until they’re both quite pleased with the results. 

As much fun as it all is, every time Spencer gets Brendon beneath him, all he can think of is what he saw in that other future, the other Spencer sliding between Brendon’s thighs. 

He tries taking things to the next level slowly, sucking his fingers in alongside Brendon’s dick and trailing them behind Brendon’s balls until he finds the opening, pressing just the tip of his finger inside. Brendon lets out a startled sound and Spencer starts to draw back, but Brendon closes his thighs around Spencer’s wrist, trapping him. 

“It’s okay,” Brendon says. “Just, slow.” 

Honestly, Spencer sort of expected to be kicked out of the bed, so he can deal with going slow. He traces the ring of muscles, wishing he could see what’s going on, but he’s worried if he stops sucking Brendon’s cock that Brendon isn’t going to be so much into this anymore. 

Brendon whimpers and Spencer looks up to see his eyes closed tight, the back of his hand pressed against his mouth. He’s not saying stop, though. Spencer tries pushing in again. It’s too dry, but Spencer’s read online and looked at really embarrassing medical diagrams and he knows exactly where and what he’s looking for. He knows when he’s found it, not just because it feels strange under the pad of his finger tip, but because Brendon makes a high, needy noise and draws his feet up the bedspread, rocking into Spencer’s touch. 

“You can—more,” Brendon moans, voice broken. Maybe Spencer shouldn’t be so surprised that Brendon’s into this—he’s certainly the more adventurous of the two of them…well, after they finally got started, anyway. 

Before they go any further with this, they’re gonna need more lube; Brendon’s ancient supply has been exhausted in the past couple days. Spencer wants to fuck him so bad, he’s tempted to get up now and run to the nearest corner store in his pjs and slippers. 

“Spencer,” Brendon whines, and moves his hips restlessly. 

“Sorry,” Spencer mumbles, around the head of Brendon’s cock, and sucks him back in, as deep as he can take it. He works in a second finger in along the first and curls his fingers against Brendon’s prostate. Brendon’s gotten a lot better about holding back his orgasm, but he comes quickly, now, curling in on himself, fingers scrambling through Spencer’s hair. 

Spencer swallows and catches his breath. He lets Brendon’s hands pull him up into a kiss. “I should have asked,” Spencer starts to say, but Brendon kisses him harder, licking into his mouth. 

“You don’t have to ask,” Brendon says. He nips at Spencer’s lip, sharp enough to sting. “There isn’t anything you could do that would freak me out.” 

“So, if I suggested stopping by the store after dinner to get more lube,” Spencer says, leading. 

Brendon grins and kisses Spencer hard and long, until Spencer almost forgets what they’ve been talking about. Brendon reaches between them, working his hand inside Spencer’s pyjama pants and starts jerking him off, slow and leisurely. 

“If you’re trying to ask if we can do it again tonight,” Brendon says, and twists his wrist just right, smearing precome with his thumb. “Then the answer is yes.” 

“Fuck, Brendon,” Spencer pants, and presses his face into Brendon’s throat, sucking along the line of his collarbone. He thrusts his hips against Brendon’s fist and imagines what it would be like to sink inside Brendon’s body, where his fingers have just been, and he comes hard, vision white around the edges. 

When he opens his eyes, he sees the mark he’s made, indentations from his teeth dark against the skin of Brendon’s chest. He traces the mark with his tongue and Brendon hums in pleasure, petting Spencer’s hair. 

“You don’t honestly think I wouldn’t let you,” Brendon says, curious. 

Spencer shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says, a little defensively. “What if it hurt, or you didn’t like it…”

Brendon sighs and twists around under Spencer until they’re eye to eye. “Spence, just because I let you doesn’t mean I expect you to do the same.” 

Spencer ducks his head. “That isn’t really fair.” 

Brendon trails his hands over Spencer’s shoulders and down his arms, links their fingers together. “How many times do I have to tell you that I love everything you do to me? I’m _happy_ , Spence. And I want you to fuck me. I _want_ it. You shouldn’t worry about anything else.” 

Spencer opens his mouth, maybe to protest—he isn’t sure what he wants to say—but Brendon kisses him again, and again, every time Spencer tries to speak, until they’re already late for family dinner night and have to scramble to get dressed, speeding all the way across town. 

*

Spencer’s mom makes vegetable lasagne especially for Brendon and greets him with a hug, like always, so Spencer’s pretty sure everything is okay. They mostly talk about his father’s plans to expand his business and the twins’ plans for summer break. 

After dinner, Crystal talks Brendon into their regular Disney marathon, and by talks him into, Spencer means Crystal mentions it over dinner and after, Brendon drags her and Jackie into the den and pulls out all the Disney DVDs, discussing the merits of each. 

Jackie sits next to Spencer on the couch, but far enough to the side to leave room for Brendon when he finally sits his ass down. “Your boyfriend is kinda gay,” she tells him and Brendon gives her a beaming smile, humming along to the opening strains as _Beauty and the Beast_ starts. 

Brendon cuddles up under Spencer’s arm and Spencer presses a kiss to his temple. “Yeah, well,” he says to Jackie. “Boyfriend,” and Jackie rolls her eyes. 

Still, Spencer knows he’s fucking lucky that his family is as cool as they are. Neither Crystal nor Jackie pay them any attention when they start making out halfway through _Pocahontas_ (Spencer knows to keep Brendon distracted when Kokoum is about to get shot). 

The marathon lasts through _Mulan_ and _The Little Mermaid_ , too, and by the time the credits are rolling on the last, Brendon’s snoring lightly against Spencer’s chest. As much as Spencer wants to follow up on their earlier conversation, it’ll be easier to stay at his place tonight. 

His mother stops him on the stairs, and he waves Brendon off. Brendon, bleary-eyed and still half-asleep, stumbles the rest the way to Spencer’s bedroom. “Not in my house,” Spencer’s mom says, sternly. “I don’t care what you boys do on your own, but I won’t have you setting an example for your sisters.” 

Spencer rolls his eyes. “Gross, mom,” he says, and his mom smiles and hugs him until he stops struggling and hugs her back. “Can we never talk about what me and Brendon do on our own, ever again?” 

Spencer’s mom kisses his forehead, and it feels weird that now she has to stand on her toes to do it, rather than bending her neck. “Seriously,” she says, and gives him a push up the stairs. “Behave.” 

Brendon’s already asleep again by the time Spencer gets upstairs, so it makes it easy to listen to his mom. He curls up in the space Brendon’s left and Brendon automatically moves in his sleep, spooning up against Spencer’s back and pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. 

Spencer thinks back to the last time Brendon slept over, what seems like years ago. He’d slept on the air mattress then; if he’d even thought about crawling into bed, Spencer would have kicked his ass. 

“Hey,” Spencer whispers, shaking Brendon’s hand. 

“Mrph?” Brendon moans, and nuzzles Spencer’s neck. He squeezes Spencer’s hand to show he’s paying attention. 

“I love you,” Spencer says, into the dark of the room. 

“Mmm,” Brendon says, mouth wet and tantalising against Spencer’s skin. “Me, too.” 

*

They end up staying at Spencer’s house most of the following day. Spencer’s dad makes fruit pancakes for breakfast, so obviously they have to stay for that. Then Brendon ropes Jackie into a DDR competition, while Crystal gives Spencer quizzes from her ridiculous teen magazines (apparently his style is more Christina than Britney, and his celebrity crush is Pete Wentz, which makes Crystal laugh until she cries) and they paint each other’s toenails, laughing whenever Jackie manages to trip Brendon up and the game makes truly hilarious commentary on Brendon’s lack of dancing skilz. 

Then Ryan calls and comes over, and Spencer’s mom goes out and gets them a bunch of footlong subs and chips to share. The five of them meet Brent up for a matinee of _Sin City_ , and Spencer knows five minutes in he’s going to have to see it again, between Jackie and Ryan’s running commentary on the horrible dialogue and Brendon’s seriously not subtle groping. 

They drop the twins off, after, but Ryan and Brent follow them to Brendon’s and Spencer might be going crazy. He hasn’t been able to _really_ touch Brendon in over twenty-four hours. 

Brendon and Brent run out to get frozen pizzas and more soda and come back with a bunch of really horrible old horror movies, and it’s almost three in the morning before Brent stumbles home, but Ryan’s passed out on the couch. And Spencer knows even if he wakes him, he’s going to be useless for driving home. 

“Fuck,” Spencer groans, pressing his face into Brendon’s shoulder blade. 

Brendon grabs his hand and leads him to the mattress. There’s a little half wall between the bedroom and living room, blocking Ryan from view, but there’s no door. Brendon’s fingers fumble sleepily with Spencer’s jeans, unfastening them and shoving down. “I can be quiet, if you can.” 

*

They manage to kick Ryan out by noon on Saturday and as soon as the door is shut behind him, Brendon’s shrugging out of his t-shirt and kicking his pyjama pants off. He’s naked underneath, and spreads himself out over the mattress. 

“While Brent was deliberating over pizza toppings, I visited the pharmacy section,” Brendon says, reaching beneath his pillow and holding out a new bottle of lube. 

Spencer gets undressed in record time, sliding down to cover Brendon’s body with his own. The apartment is hot, and Brendon’s skin is damp already with sweat, slick against Spencer’s. He kisses Spencer roughly and opens his legs, thighs snug against Spencer’s. He presses the lube into Spencer’s palm, closing his fingers around it for him. 

Spencer tries to be patient, he really does. He wants this to be good for Brendon and he really, really doesn’t want to hurt him. But with the first finger Brendon’s already moving his hips and asking for more, and with the second finger he’s whimpering, practically incoherent. He says, “I’m ready, Spence, come on, _please_ ,” but Spencer doesn’t want to run the risk of hurting him, so he adds a third finger, stretching. 

“Spencer,” Brendon moans, with an edge of frustration. “Seriously, _come on_.” 

Spencer laughs against the skin of Brendon’s thigh, presses a kiss where leg meets hip. Slowly, he pulls his finger from Brendon’s body and Brendon makes a painful sounding mewl. “Are you okay?” Spencer asks, all concerned. 

“I’ll be better when you fucking fuck me,” Brendon hisses, bucking his hips. 

It’s slow going at first, Brendon’s knee over Spencer’s shoulder. No matter how eager Brendon is, the fact remains that Spencer’s cock is bigger than three fingers and no amount of lube is going to change the physics of it. 

But once Spencer is finally inside, thighs resting against Brendon’s ass, it is so, so worth it. Brendon lets out a shaky breath, throat trembling when he lays his head back. Spencer has to kiss him there, breathing hard against Brendon’s skin, trying to steady himself and keep from coming this very second. 

Then Brendon moves restlessly, shifting his hips up, heel digging into Spencer’s back, and Spencer can’t help himself. He rocks forward, trying to get _deeper_ , and Brendon lets out a high, breathy cry. His nails curl into Spencer’s forearms and he strains up for a kiss. 

They don’t really have time to establish any sort of rhythm. Spencer’s been hovering over the edge since Brendon pulled out the lube and spread his legs and Brendon, sort of amazingly, has managed to stay hard throughout the whole thing, his cock red and angry looking between them, smearing precome over their stomachs. 

Spencer thrusts in hard, over and over, forehead pressed against Brendon’s cheek and Brendon moans his encouragement, fisting a hand around his own cock and pulling desperately. Spencer knows he should be doing it for him, needs to get better at this, but at the moment he’s helpless to do anything but keep pushing into Brendon’s tight, clenching heat. 

He’s being too rough, he knows. He can’t unclench his hands where they’re holding onto Brendon’s hips, pulling Brendon’s body to meet his thrusts. He’s gonna leave bruises, but he can’t help it. 

“Fuck, Brendon, I’m gonna…” Spencer says, and bites down on a groan. “I’m gonna come. Can I? Inside?” He’s read that some guys don’t like it, besides it being unsafe, saying it’s really messy and sticky, but he wants nothing more than to bury himself deep and just let go.

Brendon nods, and swallows hard, but his voice still sounds wrecked when he tries to speak. “Y—yes, Spence, please, come on.” 

Spencer stops trying to hold back, hips working of their own volition, working fast and jerkily, and his whole body pulses as he comes. Brendon makes a strange, surprised sound, and Spencer feels the familiar warmth spread between them, Brendon’s knuckles brushing Spencer’s stomach as he pumps himself through his orgasm. 

For a long moment, Spencer can’t move. His arms have given out on him; they feel like mush, along with every other muscle in his body. Brendon’s hand is trapped between them, and soon their stomachs are going to dry, and pulling apart is going to be sort of unpleasant. 

With a groan, Spencer makes himself sit up and pull out. Brendon bites his lip, but can’t hold back a small, pained sound. He looks debauched, hair tousled, skin sweaty and flushed, blue-black bruises around his hips. Spencer brushes his thumb over Brendon’s opening, puffy red and tender looking. He dips a finger inside, unable to help himself, and Brendon whimpers, but doesn’t protest. Spencer’s finger comes back out covered in white. 

“Fuck,” Spencer says softly, and falls down along Brendon’s side, sharing his pillow with him. 

“Mmm,” Brendon agrees. He closes his legs and shifts and moans. “Fuck is right, oh my god.” He lets out a sound that’s half laugh, half groan of pain. 

“Sorry,” Spencer says. He runs a hand down Brendon’s waist, resting his fingers lightly over the bruises he’s left and looks into Brendon’s face, concerned. 

Brendon rolls onto his side a bit gingerly, cringing as he does. But he kisses Spencer tenderly and eagerly, cupping Spencer’s face in his hands. “Don’t be sorry,” he says, between kisses, “that was amazing. Just…we’re gonna have to wait a day or two to do it again.” 

“Again?” Spencer asks, hopeful. 

Brendon’s smile is devious and his teeth sting when he kisses Spencer again, biting down on his bottom lip. “And again, and again,” he says. He rolls onto his back again, pulling Spencer with him. Spencer’s careful to only lie half on top, keeping most of his weight off Brendon. “I’ve heard, with enough practice, it’s practically painless. You don’t have to wait days between.” 

“You’ve heard?” Spencer teases. 

“You’re not the only one who can use the internets,” Brendon teases back. Spencer can feel himself going a slow red. “Hey,” Brendon says. “You don’t ever have to be embarrassed with me, Spence. Though, when sharing a computer with Brent and Ryan, you might want to be more careful about clearing the history.” 

Spencer groans and hides his face in Brendon’s chest. He can feel Brendon’s laughter vibrating against his cheek. Spencer can’t help but laugh, too. He feels lightweight and completely content, and happy in a way he’s never known, except by seeing it on his other self’s face. 

“Hey,” Spencer says. “I need to tell you something.” 

Brendon toys with Spencer’s hair, lifting it from his cheek and running it through his fingers before letting it drop again. He makes a vague, sleepy sound of agreement.

“You’ve gotta promise not to laugh, or have me committed,” Spencer says, warning. 

Brendon huffs a chuckle. “Okay,” he says slowly. 

Spencer takes a deep breath, and doesn’t know where to begin. He doesn’t know what won’t sound crazy or stupid, but he _wants_ to tell Brendon, all the same. “Okay,” he echoes. “So, once upon a time there was a very stupid guy name Spencer, who couldn’t see how awesome this guy Brendon was. And one night, he said some really shitty things, that were totally untrue.” 

Brendon laughs and says, “You already apologised for that.” 

“Shut up and listen to the story,” Spencer says, because if he doesn’t say it now, he never will. “So he went home feeling like an asshole, and went to bed, and when he woke up, he was somewhere else—somewhere with a different Spencer, and a different Brendon, who had a very different sort of relationship…”


End file.
